Junk man come,
Junk man go
Through the hottest summers
Through winters windy blow

Junk man paints his pictures
His art which never sold
Junk man's growing tired
Junk man's growing old

Until the day that he lay lifeless
His body freezing cold
His real name only a mystery
That no one really knows

Upon his death his final painting
Lay beside his frozen soul
It was displayed in a fine gallery
Labeled " From parts unknown"

In awe stood the audience
His work of art to be behold
Junk man's piece that he had painted
Was the true star of the show
Bidders for this work of art
Bid high until it sold

He left behind his legacy
He lived hard and he lived bold
Underestimated and discarded
He'd have been worth his weight in gold